


That Summer

by hokay



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Age Difference, Explicit Sexual Content, Farmer Ronan, M/M, Slow-ish burn, Swearing, The Raven Cycle Big Bang 2020, college student Adam, duh there's swearing it's Ronan, how do I even tag this, the self-indulgent country-song-inspired AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25197091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hokay/pseuds/hokay
Summary: College student Adam Parrish gets a job with a reclusive farmer near his hometown for the summer on his TA’s recommendation and ends up with more than he expected. Loosely inspired by "That Summer" by Garth Brooks.We were a thousand miles from nowhereWheatfields as far as I could seeBoth needing something from each otherNot knowing yet what that might be.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 56
Kudos: 239





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I should really never nostalgia-listen to country when plotting because then stuff like this happens. But listen, if you're not a country fan, please don't freak out because this has very little resemblance to anything remotely country-music approved.
> 
> Hello, it's my submission for The Raven Cycle Big Bang 2020, and let me just tell you, it takes a village. In this particular case, my village is the stunningly fantastic [rozurashii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rozurashii) who both beta'd the shit out of this and created some TRULY spectacular art that I'll be including at the end of this story so you can see it for yourself. 
> 
> I'm posting one chapter every day since this is a beast of a fic and definitely more than I've written in a long time. Thanks in advance for reading!

It wasn’t the question that got Adam’s attention. It was the way Gansey asked it. 

“Are you working this summer?” 

Adam had heard that question more times than he cared to count in the last four weeks, but hearing it from his TA was surreal because Gansey asked like someone who acted like he didn’t really want to know, when he actually wanted to know really, really badly. Other students were curious simply by the virtue of being nosy; Gansey wanted to know because he had some secret, hidden plan. 

Adam slowly packed up his books, avoiding Gansey’s eye. “I’ve got a couple possibilities lined up but nothing serious yet. Why?” 

Gansey clapped his hands and rubbed them together – Who under the age of forty even did that, Adam thought desperately – smiling all the while. “I may have an idea,” Gansey said, “of a way you can make some easy money this summer without the stress of having to impress anyone with your above-average impressive self.” 

“No offense, Gansey, but I’m not looking for an internship with your mom’s office,” Adam swung his bag onto his shoulder, grinning easily as he said it to ease the blow. 

To Gansey’s credit, he looked disgusted by the prospect. “You are far too brilliant to be wasted on Washington,” he said. “No, this would be something more of a favor to me, really, but, as I say, the money’s good.” 

Adam’s eyes narrowed before he could help it. There was a small, dark part of him wondering if he’d ever get used to people talking about money like it was so easy to obtain when he had spent so many years struggling to have even some semblance of financial freedom. A lighter, slightly larger part of him reminded the darkness that Gansey was just being Gansey – brilliant in a classroom, obtuse (if no less lovable) in all social interactions. “What’s the job?” he asked finally, resigned to at least hear Gansey out. 

“My friend has a small agricultural property about three hours outside D.C. and I really worry that if he tries to manage it on his own for another summer, he will have the aneurysm that we all know is coming.” 

“You want me to take a job as a farmhand for the summer,” Adam said flatly, gritting his teeth to keep back the wave of frustration that threatened to break over him in one hot, blinding moment. Of course, graduating at the top of his class and getting a full-ride scholarship to an Ivy League school wasn’t enough to wash off the stench of manual labor. The ghost pain of spending hours bent over open cars and conveyor belts radiated through his back and neck. Gansey had discovered this secret shame early in their relationship after insisting Adam accompany him to coffee to discuss the latter’s last paper. (“Genius, really,” Gansey had gushed, “your analysis is just so spot-on, where did you go to high school?”) But even after relenting and telling Gansey about his formative years spent out of the house as much as possible, Adam still couldn’t believe he’d be so callous as to think the only suitable summer job for someone like Adam involved working on a farm.

Not to mention a farm so close to-

“He’s completely hopeless when it comes to accepting help,” Gansey pressed on, oblivious to Adam’s minor mental breakdown, “and he won’t let me near any of the equipment after last time. It’s usually a slow time for him but he still manages to get into some sort of scrape every year and I’d rather he not be alone when it happens. Plus,” his grinned turned rogue, shaking Adam out of his slow-boil anger, “I got permission for you to be the peer-editor for my thesis. So, if you take this job, you will, in actuality, be expanding your academic portfolio. It’s just that I can’t pay you anything and this job will pay handsomely, so I figured it all works out in the end.” He began walking towards the door at the back of the lecture hall.

Just like that, Adam’s anger dissipated. “Gansey,” he said helplessly, following the TA to the door.

“Your room and board is covered,” Gansey said quickly, interpreting Adam’s overwhelmed gratitude as reluctance. “So you don’t have to go home if you don’t want to.”

Adam fixed him with A Look, but there was no heat in it. He couldn’t object boarding somewhere if he was doing work for it. A year of college had restructured his ideas of charity and not having to go back to his hometown was too tempting of an offer to pass up.

“And he’ll pay eight hundred a week if you can stay on through the first week in August.”

Adam stopped dead in his tracks. “That’s...too much, Gansey.” He did some quick mental math. “That’s eight thousand dollars.”

Gansey, not realizing that Adam had was no longer behind him, was halfway out the door as he said, “It’s a small price to pay to keep-” The door swung shut behind him before he finished speaking and Adam was left with an echo and a sneaking suspicion that he’d have to bring back some of his rules about charity where Gansey was concerned.

<<>>

Between wrapping up his semester and moving his few possessions into Blue and Gansey’s spare room for the summer (“It’s not like it’s forever, Adam, stop apologizing.”), Adam didn’t get a chance to bring the subject of payment up with Gansey until he was out to ritual Friday night dinner with him and Blue.

Even then, the most information he managed to get was, “Look, he hates phones, so I’ll try to get hold of him to let him know you’re coming. Your best bet is to just go to his place and tell him you want the job. He won’t send you home if you’re already there. Hang on, I’ll write the address down.” Adam felt a momentary twinge of guilt for whichever of his classmates wouldn’t be getting their bibliography back.

Adam was so overwhelmed by this whole exchange that before he knew what was happening, he was on his way from Cambridge to the address that Gansey had provided. He’d had several debates with himself on the merits of following Gansey’s instructions and just showing up on a farm to ask for a job from a guy who probably kept a shotgun on the premises. However, having grown up around those types all his life, Adam couldn’t fully convince himself that Gansey would even know those types of people, much less recommend one to Adam as an employer.

He was reminding himself of this fact as he pulled onto a beautiful, tree-lined gravel road an hour outside of his hometown.

(Best not to think about how he’d held his breath the whole way driving through Henrietta. At least if this was a bust, he could stop by Fox Way on his way back to school.)

The road wound gently for about half a mile before opening up into a breathtakingly open property surrounded by lush farmland. Adam’s breath caught in his chest at the sight of the barns littering the landscape, each a different size and shape, and the large white farmhouse, framed like a Norman Rockwell masterpiece, caught up in the middle of all the agricultural splendor like a beacon. This is everything you wanted as a child, it said. Here, just outside of town, was your paradise.

It almost hurt to look at, so Adam didn’t, focusing instead on parking his car where it safely wouldn’t disturb the tranquility of the place. He looked at the nearest barn, contemplating if he should get out and call for the owner, when the farmhouse screen door screamed open.

The guy that stood at the top of the porch steps, glaring at Adam at the top of his lungs, was the least likely farmer Adam had ever seen in his nineteen years on God’s green earth. He looked like he was in his early twenties, same as Gansey, and was more appropriately dressed for a punk concert – black tank, black jeans, black motorcycle boots. His hair was shaved close to his head so that Adam could only assume it was black. It was hard to tell in the shade from the house.

He was also unfairly handsome, possibly the most handsome person Adam had ever seen. He gripped his car’s steering wheel so tightly the leather creaked beneath his fingers and muttered, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He thought about pinching himself to see if he was dreaming. No way nobody-Adam Parrish met a guy that looked like that on a beautiful property on an unassuming afternoon in May.

Quickly, Adam realized he was staring and scrambled out of the car. He started towards the house before he lost his nerve in the face of that scowl and stopped just shy of the steps leading up to the porch.

Punk Rock Nightmare folded his arms and squared up. Adam felt his shoulders habitually start to curl in, make himself smaller, and he made a conscious effort to push them back and grow broader.

“The fuck are you?” Nightmare, when he spoke, didn’t sound like he was from Virginia. He almost sounded Irish, if you heard the intonation just right.

Adam blinked. “Adam Parrish?” 

The frown deepened. “The fuck you want, Parrish?” 

“Gansey told me to come by for a job.” 

The man stared unbelievingly at him for a second before swearing violently and in a few languages Adam didn’t recognize before stomping back into the house. Adam stood there awkwardly, wondering if he should have followed before Nightmare stormed back outside holding - Adam did a double take - a flip phone. He was scowling at it as he dialed and kept scowling as he put it up to his ear.

It must not have rung for long because it was only a few seconds before the man was swearing again. “Shut up, Dick, yes I use my phone. What the fuck, Gansey?”

He was far enough away that Adam couldn’t hear Gansey, but he didn’t miss the way Nightmare’s face twisted when he said, “I don’t need you doing my hiring for me, fucker.”

Adam’s face went hot with embarrassment. He should have known; the guy wasn’t looking for help. Gansey was just looking for someone to pawn him off on for the summer. He looked down at his watch; if he left in the next fifteen minutes, he could make it back to Henrietta by sunset and beg Maura for a spot on the couch before he drove back to Cambridge in the morning.

“Don’t ‘But Ronan’ me,” the man said. “You’re getting worse than Declan with all your meddling.” He looked up, briefly, and met Adam’s eyes.

Then, to Adam’s complete surprise and dismay, he rolled his eyes. _Gansey_ , that look seemed to say. _What are we going to do with him?_

Before college, Adam hadn’t had anyone to share inside jokes with; he’d lived on the fringes in middle and high school, studying and working every free minute. Friends didn’t factor into a full ride. Blue had her moments, but she was two years older and full of her own dreams and ambitions. Meeting Gansey had been a breath of fresh air. His eagerness in taking Adam under his wing had rankled at first until Blue asked him one evening what it hurt to let Gansey be nice to him. After that, Adam let himself ease into their friendship. But it was an uneasy truce, one that Adam was prepared to be shunted from as soon as they decided he wasn’t worth the effort.

The way that Nightmare – Ronan, his brain supplied unhelpfully – included Adam in mocking Gansey was a balm after the burn of their first impressions. That eye roll stopped Adam from getting into his car and driving away without a backwards glance.

After a minute’s worth of hissed whispers, Ronan shouted, “FINE. Fine! I’ll talk to him. But this doesn’t excuse your bullshit and I bet the maggot agrees with me.” He chewed his bottom lip as he listened to Gansey then let out a bark of wild laughter. “Fuck off, she does not. Yeah. Okay. Fuck off. Bye.” He hung up with a satisfying snap and threw the phone over the porch railing to land soundlessly in the yard. He clumped down the porch stairs and threw himself on the top step with more grace than Adam had ever managed in his life. Blue eyes glowed in the summer sun that reflected off of Adam’s bumper. For as cold as they were, Adam felt hot as they roved over his frame, giving him a once over that made him feel dirty and laid bare all at once.

Finally, after making his final assessment, Ronan snorted and leaned back on the steps. He braced all his weight on his elbows and splayed his legs wide. Adam fought hard to maintain eye contact.

“What are you, ninety pounds soaking wet?”

Adam bristled. “One-sixty.”

Ronan’s eyes sparked with devious delight. “Oho, excuse the fuck outta me.” His grin was vicious. “It might take not one but _two_ sharp breezes to blow your ass back to academia.”

Something rattled deep in Adam’s chest. It was more than annoyance - he was _pissed_. “Man, what is your problem?”

“No problem,” Ronan drawled, “just no interest in hauling around some Ivy League dumbass for two months who’s afraid to get his hands dirty.”

 _Goddammit all to hell._ “Hey,” Adam snarled. “I worked three jobs to put myself through high school, including a mechanic gig that taught me some marketable skills. I don’t have to be here. But I like Gansey and I trust him, so when he told me he knew someone who was hiring, I thought I’d give it a shot.” He spun on his heel, throwing a middle finger over his shoulder. “You can fuck right off.”

Adam started towards his car. He reached for the door handle, ready to tear the door open when he heard Ronan say, “Parrish.”

Ronan was leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees. Something in his face caught Adam’s interest; it might have been Ronan’s own interest in him. There was something different in the set of his shoulders. Adam hated to call it admiration, but it was there, if he squinted. Ronan’s eyes were such a mesmerizing blue that it almost hurt Adam to keep looking at him. He didn’t drop Adam’s gaze as he said, “You can have the room at the top of the stairs. We start at daylight and finish when it’s too dark to work. I’ll pay you every other week. Weekends are yours. Sound good?”

Dimly, Adam wondered at the whiplash and how it barely even had time to hurt. He gaped at Ronan for another few seconds before he realized Ronan was watching him expectantly for an answer. Quickly, he swallowed and said, “Sounds good.”

And so, Adam Parrish began working at The Barns.

<<>>

After that unorthodox hiring interview, Adam had only needed a day to settle all of his things. Through an unspoken agreement that he’d come to purely by the jut of Ronan’s shoulders, he waited to explore the property until Ronan was available to give him the tour. That meant he’d gone to bed at eight (for lack of anything better to do) and was staring at the ceiling, wide awake, when his alarm went off at six a.m. He was up as soon as his phone buzzed, throwing on his jeans and an old t-shirt. He grabbed a pair of socks and padded softly down the stairs, determined to be the one to make coffee as the only peace offering he knew.

The house was completely silent as Adam stole into the kitchen and he wondered if Ronan lived alone. So far, he hadn’t seen any other sign of human life, but that didn’t necessarily negate a girlfriend (or boyfriend, his brain supplied helpfully). It didn’t negate a partner. (Thank you.) He wondered if there was someone out there who dealt with Ronan’s prickly attitude and punk rock fashion sense on a regular basis. What kind of career would that person make for themselves? He entertained himself while he poured water into the coffee maker and hunted for grounds, imagining an androgynous being with hipster fashion sense and a career in influencer marketing, just for the sheer irony of it.

He found the coffee in the same cabinet as the coffee cups, which was smart, around the same time he decided Ronan’s imaginary partner really loved wine country. He chuckled to himself as he got the coffee maker set up and then there was nothing to do but wait. He leaned against the counter, looking around the kitchen as the gentle smell of coffee beans filled the air.

Adam had longed for a house like this growing up. He pointedly had invented a new way through Henrietta just to avoid any reminders of what he’d had growing up. The house around him now had a comfortable, familial feel, like it had been waiting for him to show up and it was glad when he finally did.

_“We call it The Barns,” Ronan had told him last night while Adam unloaded his duffel from the backseat. “We’ve always called it The Barns.”_

_“Does it have anything to do with all the barns?” Adam had asked, just to be a shit. A lot of people he knew would have balked at the sarcasm. Gansey would have ignored it completely in favor of a history lesson._

_Ronan just gave him a sharp grin._

Now, standing in the kitchen, Adam realized that houses with ancestry, like this one, always came with names. It might have been called The Barns before the barns were even built, but they had become part of its personality over time and now here it all was.

And it was Adam’s home, more or less, for the next two months.

The coffee maker beeped, letting him know the pot was ready, just as Adam heard a thump from upstairs, just above his head.

He took two coffee cups down and poured coffee into both, leaving room in one. He was sipping his when Ronan appeared in the kitchen doorway, one hand rubbing his eye while the other scratched absentmindedly at his belly. He froze when he saw Adam.

Adam had become a morning person by necessity over the years. A man did not endure shift work with coffee alone. It only took thirty seconds of looking at Ronan to realize that Ronan was the type of person who a) did not thrive on mornings but b) was also most likely to murder someone between the tender hours of six and noon.

“Coffee,” he grunted after a moment and Adam wordlessly pushed the second mug towards him on the counter. Ronan went to the fridge and pulled out a glass bottle of milk, filling his mug almost to overflowing. He had to lean down to suck coffee away from the rim to keep it from spilling and Adam’s stomach did something complicated.

“Feeding’s between six-thirty and seven-thirty every morning and every night,” Ronan said, still hunched over the counter. Adam pointedly did not look at the way the curve of his back highlighted his ass. He quickly tuned back in as Ronan said, “there’s plenty to do, even with planting being over, so we’ll start by checking all the fences for wear and shit and then there’s a couple of the barns needing some major repairs.” He cut his eyes to Adam. “You good with all that, Ivy boy?”

The back of Adam’s neck prickled but he just took a long sip of his coffee and said, “Works for me.”

<<>>

“He’s a psychopath!” Adam hissed to Gansey over the phone that evening after he’d managed to haul himself to his bedroom. He hadn’t thought his body had become so unused to manual labor. He’d thought wrong. Adam’s day had consisted of pulling up fence posts only to drive them in a slightly different spot. Ronan was some sort of evil mastermind architect, never really communicating his plan, just pointing and radiating hostility as they worked in silence.

Adam hurt all over. He had new blisters forming over where the ghosts of old blisters had faded on his palms. All he wanted was a shower and sleep. _Back to square one,_ he thought. It hurt more than he’d anticipated.

”No!” Gansey said over the rustle of papers on his end. “He’s adjusting. It’s been a hard couple of years for him. He’s not a psychopath. Not really. Well, kind of.” He trailed off and Adam could see him pushing up his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose, thinking. “He’s...eccentric.”

Adam scoffed. “He’s an asshole.”

“Oh, absolutely.” There was a thud and a soft ow on the other end. Gansey never had learned to avoid that corner of his desk. “Wait until you meet Declan, though.”

“That’s his brother, right?” Adam put Gansey on speaker as he hauled his shirt over his head and stripped off his jeans. After some consideration, he folded the jeans neatly and laid them over the back of the desk chair. The shirt went in a corner. He wondered whose room this had been growing up - by the lack of Satanic imagery or knives, he guessed not-Ronan’s.

“One of them, yes,” Gansey said. “Declan’s older. Matthew’s about your age, maybe a little younger? Niall and Aurora had him later.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Adam laughed. He picked the phone back up and pressed it to his ear. “You make it sound like you’re sixty. You’re barely older than I am.”

“Fair enough.” He could hear the smile in Gansey’s voice. “How are the pages I sent you? Too much?”

“I’ll take a look in a bit,” Adam promised. “I’ve got to jump through a shower before this dirt becomes permanently embedded in my fingernails.” He looked at the dark half-moons on his fingertips. “I’ll email you as soon as I review them?”

“Sounds good,” Gansey said warmly. “Oh, and Adam.” He paused and Adam stared unseeing at the closed bedroom door, waiting. “Your help really is doing a lot for him. He and Declan don’t get on and Matthew’s...well, Ronan and Declan try to keep him focused on school when they can. It means a lot to me that you agreed to take this on.”

“I’m getting paid, Gansey,” Adam said gently. “It’s not like I’m doing anyone a huge favor.” He heard the sounds of Ronan coming up the stairs and said, “Gotta go.”

“Talk soon!” Gansey chirped and the line went dead.

Adam grabbed the towel he’d brought with him and his body wash, slipping quietly into the hall and down to the bathroom. As he slid the bathroom door shut, he saw that Ronan’s bedroom door had been left cracked open. A small, bold part of him dared Adam to throw the bathroom door open and try to engage Ronan. A larger part reminded him that he was in nothing but boxer briefs, only just starting to fill out after a life of being scrawny, and that the embarrassment would be more than he could handle. Not to mention, Ronan was his boss.

As Adam started up the hot water and stepped under a blissfully refreshing shower, he thought about Ronan, sipping coffee off of the top of his mug and lifting his tank top to wipe sweat off his head. His hands clenched into fists as he thought about a summer of quiet mornings and evenings with sullen afternoons in between.

Ronan might look like a model, but his attitude said he didn’t want Adam there. It wasn’t the first time Adam had been unwanted.

If he made it through this summer, he’d be eight thousand dollars richer and have a peer-review project to his name. He’d survived under worse conditions. He could do it again.


	2. Chapter 2

Adam was careful not to let the screen door slam behind him even as he leapt off the front porch. He’d endured a week of Ronan’s unnerving quiet and it was driving him slowly insane. As he made his way to his shitbox car, he was aware of the curtains in an upstairs window twitching. He thought about throwing up a middle finger, just to be a contrary bastard, but as he’d learned in his first week, Ronan liked keeping that title for himself and Adam was in no position to usurp him.

He’d built fences and torn them down to build them again. He’d painted barns, fed cattle, sorted wheat kernels, and done just about every minor task Ronan could dream up for the two of them to do. Adam couldn’t find much sense in it, but he’d never owned a farm. He had to trust that Ronan was using him the best way he knew how. It was maddening. It was stupid. Ronan didn’t talk much and when he did, it was always designed to cut to the quick. “I don’t lie,” he’d told Adam brutally one afternoon after telling him he’d done a shit job digging post holes. Adam had just watched him walk off and then stare into the sky until his hands stopped shaking.

Adam thought about driving into town to see if someone would recognize him enough to give him a drink. He banished the thought as soon as it came to him but the back of his neck still burned with shame as he drove through Henrietta, parking neatly in front of the beautiful disaster that was 300 Fox Way.

“Adam Parrish!” Maura greeted him at the door, arms wide and welcoming. As much as he wanted to lean into it and soak up all the mother-goodness Maura would give him, he limited himself to a quick embrace that ended with a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He scrubbed at it as he went through the house into the kitchen, waving at Calla and Persephone in the living room as he went.

“I didn’t even know you were in town,” Maura said happily. “Tea?”

“Water, please.” Adam had learned early on not to drink anything besides water in Blue’s house. One cup of tea was enough for a lifetime in Fox Way. “I’m actually working just outside of town for the summer.” He sat where Maura pointed him at the small kitchen table.

“You know, I remember Blue saying something about that,” Maura said as she handed him his water. “You’re working for that Lynch boy.”

“You know him?” Adam wiped at his top lip.

Maura shook her head. “Not well. Gansey talks about him sometimes when he comes in with Blue, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in person. I know he’s out there on that farm all by himself.” Her voice dropped and she leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you remember when they reported in the papers that his daddy had died?”

Adam didn’t. “Did they know what happened?”

“They never reported the details, but it broke up that family pretty bad. His mom went not long after. It’s been probably six, seven years now. They left the farm to all three of the boys but I think Ronan’s the only one working it.”

“His brothers live in D.C.,” Adam said. “Gansey mentioned that his younger brother has a hard time with school.”

“I’d imagine it’s hard for all of them.” Maura smiled sadly, patting Adam’s arm. “How’s it going out there? You look better than when I saw you at Christmas. Nice and tan.”

Adam stared down at the condensation his glass had left on the table, dragging his fingers through the droplets. “It’s okay. It’s money, right?” He laughed at the look Maura gave him. “I don’t know. It’s like he doesn’t even want me there. And I know he doesn’t, because Gansey was the one who told me Ronan needed a hand. I just thought,” he chewed his lip, thinking, “I thought he’d warm up to me once he agreed to take me on. But it’s been a week of nothing.”

Maura studied him carefully. After a lifetime of not being looked at, it had taken Adam a few years to get used to that look. It was like she was seeing all of him, piece by piece, and putting everything together for a glimpse of the whole puzzle. Finally, she sighed and took his glass. As she filled it from the tap, she said, “You know what I remember most about the first time Blue brought you over?”

The change in subject startled Adam. “No. What?”

“How scared you looked.” Maura stopped filling the glass but she didn’t give it back to him yet. “You were just this little bitty thing. When Blue told us she’d volunteered to be a freshman mentor, we thought she’d get stuck with the kid of some backward hick who never showed their face around the house. Here she comes, first day of school, hauling you in without any sort of warning.” Maura laughed to herself. “Your eyes were as big as your whole face but you were so polite. And scared.” She set the glass back on the table, gazing kindly at Adam. “You just needed someone to show you a little love. As soon as we knew what you needed, your whole mood changed.” Maura took Adam’s chin in her hand. “Maybe Ronan just needs a little love, honey.”

Adam’s face went hot. “I don’t know if he’s like that.”

Maura laughed. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” She looked thoughtful for a minute. “Although, Calla’s got supplies if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

“God, Maura,” Adam ducked away from her, pulse racing. “Please don’t.”

“Okay, okay.” Maura started digging in the fridge. “All I’m saying is everyone needs kindness. That boy’s been through some kind of heartbreak. You’re no stranger to that road yourself.” She looked back at Adam. “Just give him a little time, sweets.” She reached into the fridge and pulled out a pack of hamburger meat. “Now, you’re staying for dinner, right?”

Adam’s stomach growled. He and Ronan didn’t eat badly but he hadn’t had one of Calla’s burgers in longer than he could remember. “Actually,” he said, tapping his fingers on his water glass. “Do you mind if I stay over this weekend?”

<<>>

When Adam got back to the Barns on Sunday afternoon, Ronan’s BMW was gone and the Barns were completely silent. Adam set up at the kitchen table, soaking in the sunlight as he worked through the pages Gansey had sent him. It was all ancient history and Welsh kings, but there were enough hints of Arthurian romance in between the general research and theory to keep Adam engaged. He was so engrossed in one of Gansey’s timelines that he didn’t hear Ronan come in until the sound of car keys being thrown on the kitchen counter made him look up with a jolt.

Adam had experienced his fair share of men in suits. Lawyers, admissions officers, professors - for the last three years of his life, he’d been pretty well accustomed to suits. He’d thought it had stopped being a Thing.

Seeing Ronan in a suit made Adam wonder if it hadn’t stopped being a Thing after all. Or, maybe, it was Ronan in a suit that was a whole new Thing for Adam. It was black, like all of Ronan’s clothes were black, but with a crisp white shirt and a bright blue tie that perfectly complemented his eyes.

Adam shifted in his seat and was mortified to find that he was half-hard just from looking. Then he realized he’d been looking too long if Ronan’s smirk was anything to go by. He ducked his head down, cheeks burning, and fiddled with the edge of his ancient laptop. He half-listened to the sounds of Ronan moving about the kitchen as he willed himself to calm down.

“Dinner?” Ronan finally asked. Adam nodded, afraid to look up in case Ronan had shed any articles of clothing, as he was wont to do, and it would undo Adam entirely.

Ronan’s footsteps fading out of the kitchen told Adam it was safe to look up again. He blew out a long breath and thought about what Maura had said - a little love and kindness had gone a long way for Adam, once upon a time. Maybe it would go a long way for Ronan, too.

<<>>

Tuesday morning, Adam was hauling water for the chickens when he saw the sleek gray barn cat creep out from underneath the woodpile and slink off into the pasture. He’d been watching her all week long, positive she was keeping a litter somewhere but not entirely sure where she’d hidden them. Heart tripping with excitement, he put his bucket down and went to the woodpile, gingerly pulling aside logs until he found exactly what he’d been looking for.

“Parrish,” Ronan called behind him. “When you’re done with the chickens, start rounding up the goats. We can-” He stopped dead as Adam turned, a tiny black and white kitten clutched to his chest.

“The barn cat,” Adam said softly as Ronan stepped up to him, eyes fixed on the kitten. “There are a couple others but this one must be the runt; she’s the smallest.” He watched, breathless, as Ronan gently stroked the top of the kitten’s head. Its tiny pink mouth came open in a silent mew of protest. Adam huffed slightly with laughter and was pleasantly surprised when Ronan did the same.

“We could take her up to the house,” Adam suggested. He watched Ronan carefully. “Out here, she might not make it long, but we could keep her goin’.”

Ronan’s eyes flicked up to his, pinning Adam in place. “How do you know it’s a she?”

“I’m sorry, haven’t had the chance to ask about preferred pronouns yet,” Adam said drily, thinking of Blue.

Ronan’s lips quirked up in a grin, fast as lightning, before he turned away, waving over his shoulder. “Fine, take her to the house. There’s flea soap under the kitchen sink. Don’t let her down to roam until you get rid of every fucking one.” He turned to look at Adam as the latter walked by towards the house. “Don’t take forever; we still have to deworm the goats.”

“Is there a box I can put her in?” Adam asked.

“Check under the hall stairs,” Ronan called, already on his way back to where he’d been working with the cows in the south barn.

Adam got her bathed and found some kitten formula in the same place he found the flea shampoo; this clearly wasn’t Ronan’s first rodeo with kitten rescue. He had to clean her up again after she ate - the kitten went after the formula voraciously, confirming Adam’s suspicions that she was the smallest of the litter and therefore not eating as well as the others. Once she was clean, he set her up in a cardboard box that had been slightly squashed from living under the stairs but was no less functional. He sacrificed his towel for some padding and watched, warmly pleased, as she curled up in the sun and fell fast asleep.

He was smiling gently to himself for the rest of the morning as they wrestled goats and caught Ronan watching him once or twice. Adam didn’t feel inclined to hide his good mood and they finished out the day without Ronan snapping or Adam feeling murderous toward his employer.

As Adam finished washing up from dinner, he looked over into the living room and saw Ronan lying on the couch, the kitten curled up on his chest. Adam chewed his lip for a moment, nervous, before he joined them, sinking into a nearby armchair and watching her rise and fall with the movement of Ronan’s chest.

“We should name her,” Adam said after a moment.

Ronan’s head rolled slightly in his direction but he didn’t look away from the kitten as he said, “Chainsaw.”

“What? No.”

That earned him another of Ronan’s feral grins. “My house, my cat, my name.”

“Chainsaw is not an appropriate name for anything, much less a kitten.”

Blue eyes rolled, already done with this conversation. “Runt, then.”

Sighing, Adam got up and plucked the kitten off Ronan’s chest. He flushed, embarrassed, as Ronan’s eyes followed the movement of his hands. “You’ll give her a complex,” he said sternly. “Name her somethin’ proper.”

Ronan stared. Adam’s cheeks burned more.

The kitten took that opportunity to wake up, yawning and blinking blearily at them both. Her eyes were surreal, a wild mix of blue and green that didn’t seem possible for an earthly creature.

“Fine,” Ronan said after a minute. “How about Opal?”

Adam smiled, scritching the kitten under the chin. She tilted her head back, purring loudly. “Opal,” he said. “Perfect.” He looked over at Ronan to ask if he wanted his kitten back, only to find that Ronan was still gazing at him. His stare lacked its usual hostility, giving way to something gentler. It wasn’t a look Adam had seen directed his way very often and his skin prickled with heat.

He’d told Maura he wasn’t sure if Ronan was even into, well, _him_ , but he’d seen no sign that Ronan was into anyone. His counselor’s voice kept playing over and over in the back of his head: _“You are worthy of love and affection, Adam. No one in this world isn’t.”_

Opal’s claws clung to Adam’s hand as she squirmed and he jumped. “I should probably get to bed,” he said quickly. He deposited her back on Ronan’s chest and stepped back. “Just stick her in the box by the window when you’re done. I’ll get up and feed her in the night. See you in the morning.”

He heard Ronan’s low, “‘Night,” as he made for the stairs and stomach didn’t stop doing flips until well after he’d crawled into bed.

Two days after Opal, Adam was stacking wood at the woodpile when Ronan came by, whistling. The noise in and of itself was so cheerful that Adam stopped what he was doing to stare. Ronan, seemingly oblivious, kept on walking, his bucket of tools swinging harmlessly next to his hip. Adam watched him walk around the corner of a barn until he couldn’t hear the whistling anymore. He kept his good ear pricked, waiting to see if Ronan’s good mood persisted throughout the day, but there was no more whistling. Adam felt slightly put off by it, though he couldn’t tell why - he’d dealt long enough with Ronan being a grumpy bastard, a little uncharacteristic whistling was long overdue.

As Adam made for his car that Friday to head to Maura’s, he was still turning over Ronan’s whistling in his mind. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t realize Ronan had followed him out the door until the screen door slammed.

Adam flinched. It was hardly anything, just the tightening of his shoulders and the jerk of his arms up to defend his body. Muscle memory. It came and went in half a second, but when he looked at Ronan, he saw something like understanding flicker in Ronan’s eyes. For some reason, it made Adam irritable, an itch under his skin he couldn’t quite scratch.

“I’m just headin’ into town,” Adam said, jerking his thumb unnecessarily at his car. His heart raced. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Ronan shrugged. He had Opal cupped in his hands, snuggled in close to his chest. “It’s your weekend, man. Do what you want.” He cleared his throat noisily and spit into the grass by the porch steps.

“Okay,” Adam said slowly. He reached for his door handle. “Holler if you need anything, I guess.”

Ronan grinned lazily. “Sure. I’ll _holler_.”

Adam’s face went hot. “Whatever. See you tomorrow.”

He didn’t look at Ronan as he pulled his car around the gravel lot and when he glanced back in his rearview mirror, Ronan was gone. Adam still burned with Ronan’s jab, but there was a small part of him that was also very pleased that Ronan had even bothered to come out to the porch at all. That carried him through town, virtually unseeing, and up the steps of 300 Fox Way. He hardly knew where he was until he was being wrapped in familiarly strong arms and stepping back to stare dazedly into Gansey’s pleased face.

“Adam, you old so-and-so! How’s farm life?”

Adam took a step back and blinked as Blue appeared at Gansey’s shoulder, eating yogurt and wrinkling her nose at Gansey.

“Oh my god, you are so embarrassing,” she said, bumping him with her hip. She beamed at Adam. “How’s it going?”

Adam grinned at them both, confusion lifting. “Hey - I didn’t know y’all were coming into town!”

“Neither did we, really,” Blue said, dragging him away from Gansey and into Fox Way’s kitchen. “The Congresswoman has a fundraiser tonight and an event tomorrow and she decided last minute that having the whole family was exactly what the campaign needed. I had to get something respectable to wear.”

“I bet Helen’s loving that,” Adam laughed. He never stopped loving the way Blue said words like “fundraiser” and “respectable” like they were particularly foul. He turned, finding Gansey in the hub-bub of women coming and going through the kitchen.

“She’s mutinous at best,” Gansey said, pushing his glasses up from where they had slipped down his nose. “To be perfectly honest, we didn’t think we’d see you. We thought you and Ronan would be up to some sort of shenanigans by now and that you’d become as unresponsive as he is.”

Adam sidestepped as one of Blue’s cousins - Cynthia? Antonia? - pushed past him to get to the fridge. He narrowed his eyes at Gansey. “Gans, it’s been two weeks. It’s not like we suddenly became best friends overnight.”

“Wait, really?” Gansey’s eyes were huge behind his glasses.

“The fact that he didn’t throw you out when you first showed up says otherwise,” Blue added from her perch on the kitchen counter.

Adam smirked at Blue. “Do you really think that all the people that you like are automatically going to like each other?” he asked Gansey.

There was a moment of silence as everyone stared at Gansey before Blue snorted into her yogurt and Gansey shrugged, bashful.

“Yes?”

Adam rolled his eyes, trying to hide his grin. “We haven’t become best buds, sorry. You can ask him why when you see him.”

Gansey’s face fell. “We won’t have time. We’re leaving in a few hours for the fundraiser and then I have to be back for a meeting with my faculty advisor first thing Sunday morning, or I would.” He looked genuinely heartbroken. “I hate to miss the chance to see him while I’m here, but Blue reassured me he was in good hands.”

Adam pointedly did not look at Blue. “If you’re talking about his own, good luck seeing him at Christmas.”

Gansey threw back his head and laughed. “With Ronan Lynch, it has always been thus.” He clapped Adam on the shoulder. “That’s part of the reason I was so excited for you to take the job. Ronan has never been what one would call prudent with his own self-determination. He tends to find a lot of joy in fire and fast cars. You, on the other hand, are the most self-determined person I know. It couldn’t have been more perfect if I’d planned it.”

“You did plan it,” Adam said faintly, still reeling from Gansey’s praise. After a year of constantly being exposed to Richard Campbell Gansey III, he still wasn’t quite adjusted. “You got me the job.”

“Well,” Gansey said, suddenly very interested in the hem of his polo. “That was more of a favor to Ronan than to you. I figured he wouldn’t mind having you around, really.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, you’re all, you know,” Gansey made a sweeping motion over Adam and Adam’s heart skipped, “you, and Ronan - Ronan needs that.”

“Needs _what_ , exactly?”

Blue started laughing again, clutching her sides at their bemused faces. “C’mon, Parrish. You’re smarter than this.”

Adam blinked at her. “What?” Something in his brain clicked. “No! Y’all. He’s my _boss_.”

“Barely,” Blue scoffed. “I know Ronan. At most, he’s a guy you work with.”

“Except he’s paying me,” Adam said, but Gansey, rescued by Blue’s dismissal, just waved his hands merrily.

“Details,” he said. “The important thing is that you’re working, Ronan’s working, and I’m sleeping at night. The rest is all just-”

“Details,” Blue interrupted, looping her arms through each of theirs as she pulled them towards the backyard. “Come on. Persephone made moonshine and I want to try some before Calla and Orla drink it all.”

Adam shivered, thinking of the last time he’d seen Blue’s cousin drunk; at least he’d been wearing layers and Blue had helped him dodge the worst of the groping. “If Orla’s drinking, I’m going back.”

“Relax, Parrish,” Blue said with a grin. “We’ll keep you _in virgo intacta_ for our Mr. Lynch. Also,” she said over Adam’s indignant look, “virginity is a social construct and, while I joke, let us not forget that society is stupid.”

Following Blue through the back door, Adam flicked Blue on the shoulder. “Bold of you to assume I’m a virgin,” he said quietly, smirking when Blue laughed.

“Adam Parrish!” she shrieked, delighted.

“Who’s a virgin?” Orla appeared at Adam’s side, shoulders bared in a yellow and orange striped top that left nothing to the imagination and matching shorts. Her long hair brushed Adam’s shoulder, leaving behind the scent of citrus and coconut. When he’d first met Orla, Adam had been overwhelmed past the point of coherence. Now, he was just overwhelmed.

“No one,” he said quickly. Orla looked at him, sly. “Wait. No, I mean. Wait, that’s not. Hold on.”

“Here, here,” Gansey crowed, happily oblivious, as he led them out into the fair June sunshine.

<<>>

Ronan was in the kitchen, chopping carrots, when Adam shuffled in. It was late; he’d sampled the moonshine, found it potent, and promptly hidden in Blue’s room with Gansey, sober as judges for their own safety until Blue knocked and yelled that it was time for them to leave. Adam had trailed behind on their coattails, cheerfully accepting hugs from each until it really was “time for you to get your ass in the car, Gansey, Helen’s going to kill us for being late as it is.” After that, Adam deemed it more prudent to head back to the Barns than try to avoid Orla. It wasn’t until he’d glanced at his watch on his way up the porch steps that he’d realized it was nearly midnight. He tried to be quiet, taking off his shoes at the door and beginning to pad up the stairs when he saw the kitchen light glowing warmly.

Ronan barely glanced up when Adam came in. Feeling a little like a kid getting caught past curfew, Adam went to the fridge and pulled out the orange juice, retrieving a glass from the cupboard as he went. He poured and watched as Ronan made his way through the carrots and started in on some onions.

Adam spied celery stalks and a few chicken bones from Thursday night’s dinner. “Stock?” he asked.

Ronan grunted, knife moving swiftly through each onion.

“Kinda late, huh?”

That earned him a glare. “You’re still awake, why the fuck shouldn’t I be?”

Adam took a gulp of his juice. He didn’t feel the normal prickle at Ronan’s ire. “I’ve just never seen anyone make stock in the middle of the night.”

Ronan paused chopping for the barest moment before he reached for the stewpot waiting on the counter nearby. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said after he dumped all his vegetables and the chicken bones inside. His face had evened out from confrontational to something more pensive. It made Adam think of what Blue had said earlier and he shivered.

Ronan stuck the stewpot under the faucet and let the water run over its contents. “And why are you back so late, Cinderella?” he asked over the sound of the pot filling.

“Got caught up,” Adam said, watching the water rise. He could feel Ronan watching him and it almost made him smile. “Ran into Gansey and Blue.”

“Gansey’s in town?” Ronan said quickly before he whipped his head away, punching at the knobs for more water.

“Not anymore.” Adam turned so he was leaning with his back to the counter. Ronan’s shoulder was just to his right; Adam could smell his deodorant and freshly cut grass. “They had to come into town to get something for Blue. There was a thing tonight in D.C. they couldn’t miss.”

Ronan snorted. “I’d put good money that’s where Declan is tonight, too.” He shook his head, lip curling. “At least he’ll see one Lynch this weekend.”

Adam thought he heard a little bitterness in Ronan’s voice. “He told me to tell you to text him back and that he sends his love.” Adam laughed ruefully. “He really did say, ‘Give Ronan my love.’”

“Of course he did,” Ronan snorted, but he was smiling. He shut off the water and hauled the stewpot to the stove. Once the heat had been turned on, he reached above the fridge and pulled down his phone. He was always storing it in some odd place, Adam noticed, and never somewhere handy when you really needed to talk to Ronan.

Adam bit his lip to keep from laughing and quickly gulped down the rest of his juice. He washed his glass and put it on the sideboard. “‘Night,” he said, brushing past Ronan on his way out of the kitchen. As their arms touched, he heard Ronan’s sharp inhale and Adam’s heart skipped. He reminded himself of what he’d told Blue - the man was his boss, no matter how or what Adam felt. This was a job, and he wasn’t going to fuck it all up on a mild attraction to someone who made dark and dangerous look like walking sex. He scolded himself all the way up the stairs and as he brushed his teeth.

When he had stripped down to just his underwear and was crawling into bed, he noticed a small jar sitting on his bedside table. The label just read _manibus_ and it looked like something from one of the local shops around town. When Adam opened it, however, it held lotion that smelled earthy and cool. He turned it over in his hands, noticing how the jar looked like one he’d seen on a shelf in one of the barns and how the massive blister on his palm had started to peel. He thought about Ronan’s eyes on him this past week. He thought about Gansey’s insinuation that the two of them were getting involved.

Mind churning, Adam gently put the lotion back on the side table and fell into bed. His body barely had time to settle before he was asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_“At most, he’s a guy you work with.”_

Adam couldn’t get Blue’s words out of his head as he went through the motions of the following days. Every glance shared, every shoulder brushed, held an enormous weight. To Adam, it felt like the calm before a storm, the way the world held its breath before the sky opened and changed the landscape for good.

He wasn’t alone. He could tell that Ronan, even as quiet and prickly as he was, was taking careful steps around the boundary of their relationship. It settled Adam to know that he wasn’t the only one who was thinking of the possibilities and feeling some level of attraction.

It didn’t hurt their working chemistry, either. As Ronan opened up and Adam carefully learned which pieces were okay to pull away, they developed a rhythm that let them work in companionable silence for hours on end before Ronan would sigh and say, “Well, Parrish, I think that’s all we’re going to get done today,” which was Adam’s cue to respond, “It’ll keep until tomorrow.” It made Adam feel a little silly at first, like they were two cowboys in an old western, tipping their hats to the townsfolk before riding out, but after about a week, he found himself looking at Ronan when he said it, grinning, hoping it would make Ronan grin, too. It always did, and they always went back to the house quietly satisfied.

Friday evening found Adam curled on the porch swing with his laptop, bare feet kicked up into the seat as he read through some pages Gansey had sent, when Ronan came through the front door. His surprise was palpable and Adam watched him out of the corner of his eye as Ronan squared his shoulders and dropped onto the front steps, looking out over the yard.

Adam waited for Ronan to say something, but nothing disturbed the sounds of cicadas in the trees and a pair of bullfrogs in the pasture lake. He fell back into a relaxed state of academia, making notes in the margins of Gansey’s paper. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Ronan spoke.

“No familial obligations this weekend?” Ronan grinned toothily as the porch swing swayed.

Adam rearranged himself to hide the fact that he’d been startled at all. Besides, the arm really had been digging into his back. “Thought I’d stay here,” he said as casually as possible.

Ronan was still looking out at the yard, elbows resting on his knees, but his head was tilted in Adam’s direction, listening. It made Adam shut his computer and place it to the side, leaning back as he also looked out over the Barns. It was a beautiful, huge property, the kind of place Adam had dreamed of as a child and it seemed odd to him that Ronan was the only one who spent any time on it.

Adam unfolded off the swing, slipping next to Ronan on the top step. There was more room on Ronan’s other side but Adam didn’t want to explain the deafness in his left ear just yet. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask. I probably won’t answer.” Ronan didn’t look at him but he hadn’t moved. He was close enough that Adam could feel the warmth of him through his t-shirt.

Adam chewed his lip and carefully didn’t look at Ronan as he asked, “Why aren’t your brothers here?”

Ronan stiffened. Adam was afraid he’d storm off in a rage but was surprised when Ronan sighed and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Is there a reason they don’t help out?”

“Because Declan’s an asshole.” 

Adam snorted. “That’s very descriptive.”

Ronan turned his head finally to look at Adam, a small smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. It did something funny to Adam’s stomach, seeing that smile. He’d been seeing even more of it in the last week and it felt like it was something just for him.

“You’ve never met Declan, have you?” At Adam’s small frown, Ronan explained, “Declan hates this place. It reminds him of shit he’d rather forget, and for Declan, that’s as good as a curse. He owns an art gallery in D.C. and it pays pretty decent; decent enough to put Matthew through school.” Ronan’s fingers played absentmindedly with the leather bands he always wore around his wrist; Adam glanced down to watch his long fingers before he pulled his eyes back to Ronan’s fast. Wistful was an odd look on those sharp features, but it was there. “I couldn’t ask Matthew to leave,” Ronan said softly, almost to himself. “Declan and I agreed it was better for him to stay.” 

Adam hummed absently. “You know,” he said after a moment. “I don’t have any siblings, but if I had an older brother, I think I’d want him to care about me like that.”

He expected Ronan to come back with some cutting barb or make fun of him for being a sap. The last week seemed to have softened something in Ronan, though, and instead, Adam just got a small half-smile, gentle and private. They sat and stared out at the last of the evening sunlight turning barn windows and blades of glass to gold.

Ronan cleared his throat and Adam jumped. He’d been so deep in thoughts of brothers and family and love that he’d almost forgotten Ronan was still there.

“Better finish those pages for Gansey,” Ronan said, standing up and wiping his palms on the thighs of his jeans. Adam resolutely kept his eyes up, fixed on Ronan’s face. He felt warm all over that Ronan had remembered that he was doing work, important work, and then felt silly for caring. His mind was a twist of his feelings for Ronan coupled with his own self-doubts and they kept him company until the automatic porch light flickered on and Adam hauled himself inside.

<<>>

“What’s this?” Adam asked Monday morning as he grabbed a pitchfork to start cleaning the goats’ pen. Sitting on the fence post was a simple jewel case with a blank CD inside.

“Parrish,” Ronan deadpanned. “Please tell me you’ve seen a mixtape before.”

Adam picked up the CD, fingers pressing into the narrow edges as he rolled his eyes at Ronan. “This isn’t a mixtape, though.”

Ronan waved him off, turning away to grab the tools he needed for repairs in one of the Barns. It seemed to Adam like Ronan was always repairing something in one of the Barns. “Nuance, Parrish. It’s got songs and shit that are not all by one band, therefore,” he burped loudly and Adam wrinkled his nose, “mixtape.”

Adam looked down at the CD in his hands as he chewed his lip. “What-what do I-is it for me?” he asked hesitantly.

“Nope. Left it for the fairies.” Ronan’s voice was warm but when Adam looked up, he was still fussing with something in the tool room. When he came out holding a tool belt, a roll of duct tape, and a length of baling twine and saw Adam still gazing down at the CD. “Jesus, Parrish, it’s a CD, not a bomb. I promise it’s not going to explode.”

Adam looked up. His throat burned. “No one’s ever made me a mix before.” 

Ronan looked at him steadily for a moment before he reached over and plucked the CD out of Adam’s grasp. “There’s a sound system hooked up in here,” he said over his shoulder as Adam watched, gaping. “It’s about time we heard some good music around here.”

Considering Ronan was the one who had made the mix and it had been Ronan’s shitty EDM that Adam had been steadfastly ignoring for the past three weeks, Adam had his doubts. But when the music started, it was a surprising mix of acoustic folk, Irish ballads, and classic rock. Nothing that Adam thought Ronan would particularly enjoy but Ronan sang softly with each ballad when they worked together and grinned when Adam did the same through the eighties rock. They both kept pretty quiet through the soft folk, although Adam caught Ronan sneaking glances at him as many times as he tried to sneak a glance of his own.

<<>>

Of course, fairytales are reserved for children’s books and Adam had never fooled himself into thinking he lived in a perfect world. The Thursday after the mix CD found Adam in another barn by himself, tinkering with an old tractor Ronan had pointed him towards with a thoughtful, “Didn’t you say you used to be a mechanic?”

He was humming to himself, something from one of Ronan’s Irish tunes, completely engrossed in the tractor’s radiator, when the scuff of boots in his eye line sent him leaping to his feet. He scrambled to get away from the boots before his brain could really catch up and was left with Ronan watching him warily, hands held up in supplication.

“Sorry,” Adam gasped. His rag was still tucked in his fist; he wound it around his hand to avoid looking at Ronan. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

Ronan rolled his eyes, turning away to stomp towards the back of the barn. “What you got to be sorry about?”

“I-I-um,” Adam wondered if the fluttering of his pulse was visible in his neck. Blood rushed in his ear, filling his head with static. It didn’t feel like a panic attack, not yet, but if Ronan asked - Adam didn’t know if he could balance answering questions and counting to one hundred.

Ronan stomped back past him, making more noise than necessary. Adam’s face flushed with heat when he realized. “Finish feeding, will you, Parrish?” Ronan called over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go work on that fence before it gets too dark.”

The porchlight was glowing warmly when Adam finally pulled himself away from the tractor. It wasn’t worth the hunger, he decided mulishly, forcing himself to walk towards the house and face Ronan. He had skipped lunch in favor of avoiding the other man but the smell of grilled meat when Adam hit the house almost made his knees weak. 

Adam carefully made his way into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge. Ronan was on the back porch, poking at something on the grill. His back was to Adam when the latter stepped through the kitchen door; maybe it was wishful thinking, but Adam imagined he could see Ronan’s shoulders relax minutely when Adam came to stand by him at the grill.

“So,” Adam said quietly after taking a sip of his water, “I’m deaf in my left ear.”

Ronan’s face didn’t change as he flipped a pork chop with a deft twist of the tongs. “Noted.”

Adam remembered Maura’s advice at the beginning of the summer and took a deep breath. “My dad,” he said haltingly, staring resolutely down at the grill, “my dad pushed me down some stairs when I was in high school. I hit my head.” He chewed his lip and looked over at Ronan, gauging.

Ronan still hadn’t moved, but his back was rigid, like every bone in his body was trying to hold him together. It made him look bigger like he could swallow the world whole and not think twice. Adam let himself imagine what it would feel like to be wrapped up in that righteous anger, to sit in the eye of that storm and watch as Ronan demolished everything in his path. His eyes absently trailed back over Ronan’s shoulder to trace the black swirl of tattoo that peaked over the collar of Ronan’s t-shirt, clawing its way up Ronan’s neck. He wondered about that tattoo. He’d yet to see Ronan without a shirt, only catching glimpses through the torn armholes of Ronan’s ragged tanks and rips in old t-shirts. In the dim kitchen light, Adam caught the shine of a silver chain trailing against Ronan’s throat.

The muscles in Ronan’s neck shifted as he swallowed and Adam tore his eyes away, snapping his head forward to stare haplessly into the back pasture.

“Anyway,” Adam said on a deep inhale. “That-that’s why I jumped today. I couldn’t hear when you came in.” He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling steadily through his nose before he forced himself to open his eyes and look back at Ronan.

Ronan’s blue eyes were steady, piercing and cool as he watched Adam. There was something hanging in the air between them, a hunger that couldn’t be sated by grilling meat. It sent a thrill down Adam’s spine, pooling in his belly and making his fingertips numb.

A timer went off somewhere inside the house and they both jumped. 

“I’ll get it,” Adam muttered. As he stepped inside, he thought he heard Ronan let out a shaky breath - of disappointment or relief, Adam wasn’t sure. 

<<>>

The thing Adam liked about the country was that there weren’t as many city noises. No buses, no subways, no permeating sounds of the people in the apartments on either side of you, all vying for the same breath and right to live. It was peaceful, soothing.

The thing Adam didn’t like was that, apparently, no one had told Ronan.

“Parrish!” The shout cut through his dreams like a heart attack and Adam almost came out of his skin. He rolled out of bed, not bothering to throw on a shirt and stuck his head out of his bedroom window to see Ronan leaning against his ridiculous car like some kind of supermodel. It should be illegal, Adam thought helplessly through a fog of interrupted sleep, for one person to be so attractive.

“What?” Adam yelled down, scrubbing at his face. “Fuck off.”

Ronan’s laugh was deep and pleased. “I gotta go get produce and order some alfalfa for the goats,” he called up. With his sunglasses and black ensemble, he looked more like someone who should be heading to bed than leaving it to go to a farmer’s market at seven o’clock on a Saturday morning.

“So?” Adam croaked.

“Wanna come along?”

Adam blinked. He inhaled deeply through his nose, weighing his options. Maura had always told him that he was a little psychic; his preservation instincts had been finely honed into a tool that pretty well told him when something was going to be a bad idea.

Going to a farmer’s market with his boss? Not a bad idea.

Going to a farmer’s market with an attractive man? Possibly bad idea.

Going to a farmer’s market with an attractive man who was also his boss who Adam also {with increasing desperation) wanted to fuck?

Calla’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Adam, sweetie, God blessed you with a big ole brain and plenty of common sense. Try to use them.”

Bad. Idea. 

“Okay,” Adam called down. “Gimme just a sec.”

He found himself reclining in the BMW’s passenger seat not fifteen minutes later, marveling at how smoothly the car took every bump and turn in the road.

“I have a question,” he said as Ronan sped around another turn in the road. “Should I be worried about being an accomplice to a bank heist?” 

Ronan grinned lazily. “Don’t you know anywhere worth going is worth going there fast, Parrish?” he said, taking the car into fourth gear. 

“Okay, sure, fast,” Adam said, heart in his throat. “But this is suicidal.” 

Ronan laughed wickedly but he eased off the gas. “This isn’t shit,” he said happily. “Five years ago, I could have shown you suicidal.” 

“Oh, god,” Adam groaned. “Let me guess. You were one of those idiots who raced outside of town every weekend.” 

“Not every weekend, and I won,” Ronan said, like that made any difference. 

“Your brothers must be so proud.” 

That sharp grin turned feral. “ _Thrilled_ ,” he said, drumming his fingers against the gearshift. He seemed to almost melt into the seat like it was a mold made especially for his body.

Adam worked overtime not to stare. Watching Ronan drive was too explicit, more apropos for a Saturday night than a Saturday morning. As it was, Adam was embarrassed to find that he was more than a little hard in his jeans. He didn’t move a muscle, not wanting to draw any sort of attention to himself. 

Instead, he said, “I can’t believe we’re actually going to a farmer’s market.” 

“Why?” Ronan asked. The BMW thrummed. “Too gay for you?” 

Adam’s heart skipped. “Nah,” he said, desperate to keep his voice even. “It’s, like, just the right amount of gay?” He risked a glance over at Ronan and was pleasantly surprised to find the faintest red spreading across the tops of Ronan’s high cheekbones. 

“What’s that, some kind of fancy fucking student group slogan?” Ronan said after a minute. “‘Join the LGBTQ Student Alliance. We’re just the right amount of gay.’” 

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Adam said drily. “I’ll have to check with them when I get back.” 

Ronan cackled. “Not bad, Parrish,” he muttered. “Not bad at all.” 

The farmer’s market was, indeed, a farmer’s market.

“Ronan, honey!” A woman with long gray hair waved him over as soon as they walked past the first tent. “We missed you last week!”

“I was busy,” Ronan said, the tips of his ears going red. “Delilah, this is Adam Parrish; he’s helping me for the summer.” 

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart,” Delilah said, holding up a paper cup to Adam. “Have some kombucha.”

Adam obligingly helped Ronan carry fruits, vegetables, organic feed, and honey to the BMW. The stall owners all knew Ronan, which was a mystery to Adam; what’s more, they all seemed to thoroughly enjoy his company, which was stranger still. There was no denying that Ronan could be a likable guy (when he so chose), but Adam had seen him curse at goats, attack fence posts, and throw an absolute shit-fit over unexpected summer help. The other farmers at the market, however, all seemed to pull out a different Ronan. He was still loud, still full of swagger, but it was sweeter. He was among people who didn’t judge him, Adam realized with a jolt. He was free to be his own version of Ronan, no questions asked. He watched Ronan bend down to coo over a basket of puppies at a vegetable stand and wondered if he’d ever get his own version of this Ronan, too.

They were back in the BMW, heading back to the Barns, before Adam said, “That was nice.” 

Ronan shot him a wry glance. “Shut the fuck up.” 

“I mean it,” Adam laughed. “You’ve got this whole community that just welcomes you in and has your back. They all really like you.” 

“Jesus, Parrish, you saying you’re surprised I can be a nice guy?” 

“Pleasantly surprised, yes.” Adam’s smile felt too wide; he didn’t care. “How do they all know you so well?”

“A lot of them help me out in the fall and winter and I buy from them during the spring and summer. It all works out in the end.”

“Okay, wait,” Adam said slowly. “Are you telling me that you actually do _work_? The farm isn’t just some big hobby?” 

Ronan’s lip curled but he looked amused. “Fuck off, college boy. I’m working on a strain of winter wheat that grows in harsh winters to help with crop production. You gotta have help with planting and harvest, shit like that.” 

Adam blinked. “Ronan, that’s...that’s really cool.” He felt a little ashamed that he’d only now realized that maybe the property was actually something for Ronan besides a place to cool his heels. He’d honestly thought Gansey had gotten him this job to babysit Ronan, not because Ronan might have just needed one extra hand instead of five for the summer. “Wait, but what are the goats for?” 

Ronan laughed. “Matthew made me get ‘em. Said I couldn’t be a proper farmer without livestock so I got fucking goats to shut him up.” 

Adam chuckled, dropping his chin into his chest as he grinned. It was easy like this, with Ronan. He’d never had...nothing had ever… 

A horn blared rudely, snapping Adam back to the present.

“Motherfucker.” The sudden chill in Ronan’s voice made Adam look up and over. Ronan was staring in the rearview mirror, jaw tight in a furious clench. 

Adam glanced in his side mirror. A white Mitsubishi was tailgating them, uncomfortably close, windows tinted too dark to see in. Adam thought for a moment that it must have been someone trying to pass them, but the white car made no effort to go around. Instead, it continued to creep on the BMW’s bumper, completely forgoing any rules of polite driving in favor of giving Adam a heart attack. He clutched at his seatbelt, whole body tense as Ronan rocketed ahead, trees and fields flying by at terrifying speeds.

“Hang on,” Ronan grit out, reaching down to coax the BMW into a higher gear. “I can lose him.” 

“What-do you _know_ this guy?” Adam asked incredulously. 

Ronan shot him a single glance; it chilled Adam to see him apologetic. “Kind of. He’s a fucking dick.” He shifted again, eyes flickering to the rearview mirror again. “He’s done something to that Mitsu, how the _fuck_ -”

There was the grind of metal against metal and the entire BMW jolted forward, shuddering. It felt to Adam like the entire car was about to come apart. Ronan swore - a combination of nouns and verbs that made Adam flush hotly - and jerked the car to the shoulder, throwing up dust and gravel as he coasted to a stop.

Ronan was throwing open his door and vaulting out of the car before Adam’s head had a chance to stop spinning. He felt nauseous from the sudden shift from ninety to nothing and it took him a second to get his hands to stop trembling long enough to undo his seatbelt and stagger out of the car. By the time he’d managed, the Mitsu had come to a stop and its owner emerged.

Adam immediately thought of everything he’d ever seen of Atlantic City - flash with no substance; drugs and empty promises wrapped in neon lights and alcohol. This guy looked like the dirtiest sin (and what you’d catch from sinning) all wrapped up in a dime bag package. Where Ronan wore his tank and jeans like a second skin, this man’s clothes hung on his narrow frame like he’d barely had the presence of mind to put them on. Gold chains formed a collar around his neck and his skinny wrist barely supported a watch that looked too big and too expensive to be anything but real. 

By the time Adam reached Ronan, he was already furiously slamming into the newcomer, shoving him back onto the hood of his car. 

“What the actual _fuck_ , K?” Ronan shouted, hands balled into fists. “What the fuck did you do to my car?” 

The man - K - just laughed, a dry, rattling sound. “As I recall, Lynch,” he drawled, “you were never opposed to a little ass-kissing.”

Ronan’s face twisted in a vicious snarl and he started forward, presumably to knock K into next week, but Adam managed to snatch hold of his arm to pull him back.

“Ronan,” Adam said lowly. “Don’t.” 

Ronan looked down at him, surprised, like he’d only just remembered Adam was there. His eyes widened, rage crowded out by fear before he cut his eyes to where K was lying on his hood like a porn star, watching them hungrily.

K’s eyes were hidden behind a pair of chunky, white-rimmed sunglasses, but the way his mouth twisted when he looked at Adam made him feel like something had rotten in the pit of his stomach.

Adam didn’t look away, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Come on,” he said, turning back towards the car. He grimaced when he saw the scratches and white paint embedded in the BMW’s bumper.

“Lynch,” K called lazily, “where’d you find the twink?”

Ronan snarled; Adam tightened his grip on Ronan’s forearm as Ronan’s entire body went tight. Dimly, Adam realized K was talking about him and he schooled his face into something unimpressed before he looked back over his shoulder. 

“Beg pardon?” Adam clenched his teeth. 

K through his head back and cackled. His oversized tank shifted on his shoulders, baring more narrow chest than Adam thought was necessary, as he pushed himself off the Mitsu and stalked towards them both. 

Ronan was a live wire. Adam thought about releasing his arm but realized that maybe the only thing keeping Ronan out of a maximum-security prison was knowing that there was someone counting on him to behave himself, so Adam held on. 

K came toe to toe with Adam, pushing his sunglasses up his head as he gave Adam a filthy once over. “Ain’t you polite?” he asked mockingly. His tongue darted out over his top lip, like a snake tasting the air. “I’m surprised they let pretty boys like you do farm labor; I’d have gotten in the business a long time ago if I’d known.”

“Man, Kavinsky, get the fuck outta here.” Sweat dripped down Ronan’s neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt. “I’ll forget about the fucking car.”

K’s insomniac eyes were dark, beetle-black things ringed by purple shadows. The way he looked at Ronan made Adam’s skin crawl.

“You’re going soft, Lynch,” he whispered, eyes dropping down suggestively. “Not as much bite. That’s too bad - I got something to help you remember.” His fingers dug into his jeans pocket and Ronan stepped back, shaking his head. 

“Not interested,” he spat. He looked at Adam and jerked his head towards the car. “Let’s go.”

“Summer’s almost over,” Kavinsky coaxed as Adam and Ronan turned. “I know how you get when it’s just you and that house.”

“Shut up,” Ronan muttered, almost to himself.

Adam’s thumb stroked the warm skin of Ronan’s inner elbow before letting his hand drop, going around the side of the car to shut himself away from this person - he couldn’t believe he’d ever thought Ronan was a nightmare.

“Fine,” K hollered. “What about you, pretty boy?” he asked Adam, pulling a baggie out of his pocket. Adam could see two pills, barely bigger than aspirin, vibrantly blue and toxic-looking. His grin was deadly. “Need a little pick-me-up? Something to relax all the right muscles?” He winked. “That’s okay. You ever get lonely, you just give me a call. Lynch knows all about it.”

Adam felt sick.

“Jesus fucking Mary!” Ronan wheeled away from the car, flying towards K before Adam knew what was happening. He blinked, and K was in the dirt, spitting as blood gushed from his nose. Ronan was stalking away, back towards Adam and the BMW, his face black as murder.

“Get in, Parrish,” he snapped. “Just get the fuck in.”

Adam slid down and pulled the door shut, not bothering to put on his seatbelt as Ronan threw himself into the driver’s seat, jammed the keys into place, and peeled away from K, the white Mitsu, and the secrets that hung in the air between them. 

<<>>

Adam had been to court. He’d grown up in a trailer with two people who’d cared little to none for his well being. He’d been whispered about, pushed around, and beaten within an inch of his life. He’d survived the worst things that had ever happened to him and managed to pull himself back together to fight another day. He was an expert in bouncing back, refocusing his energy, and pressing on.

The absolute silence that filled the BMW as Ronan raced back to The Barns was stifling. An afternoon that could have been a date if they’d both looked at it hard enough had turned into a goddamn shitshow. Adam sat stiffly in the passenger seat, ears burning as Kavinsky’s words kept echoing in his ears.

_“Lynch. Where’d you find the twink?”_

_“You ever get lonely, you just give me a call. Lynch knows all about it.”_

Adam chanced a glance over at Ronan. His eyes were steely, cold and fixed on the road. One hand gripped tight at the steering wheel, knuckles straining through the thin, raw skin, while the other clutched the gearshift like it was all that stood between Ronan and flying apart.

Adam didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t believe Ronan had hit Kavinsky, couldn’t believe he’d gotten in the car with Ronan after witnessing that violence. He also didn’t believe Ronan would ever turn those fists on him; it was the realization that Ronan would raise a hand against anyone who hurt Adam but would think twice before hurting Adam himself that made Adam say,

“Ronan.” 

“Don’t.” Ronan’s face was shuttered. Even after all that ugliness, Adam thought, he was still beautiful. “I don’t want to hear it.” 

“You don’t know what I’m going to say.” Adam was proud that his voice never shook. He felt shaky on the inside, as unhinged as Ronan looked, but it was good - it felt like living. 

“I don’t want to fucking hear it,” Ronan spat. 

Adam went silent at that, watching trees rush by as the speedometer reached astronomical heights. He should have been afraid of crashing, but he wasn’t. He wanted to take Ronan’s hand, but he didn’t. He wanted so many things. 

Blearily, he wondered if Ronan wanted them, too. 

Before too long, Ronan slowed to pull the BMW into the long gravel drive. Adam watched the house loom before them in the afternoon light. They’d been gone for much longer than he’d realized. He knew that if he let Ronan get inside without saying anything, he’d never get his chance. Everything hinged on the magic space between the house and the car; one wrong move and it was all over.

“I’d never call him,” Adam said quietly. “And I don’t give a fuck if you ever did.” 

Ronan made a tortured sound at the back of his throat. The skin over the knuckles of both hands was white. 

“You should,” Ronan whispered hoarsely. 

“I don’t.” Adam sat perfectly still as Ronan pulled to a stop in front of the house. Again, Ronan was out of the car in a flash, slamming the door shut, but his kinetic energy seemed to stop once he hit the porch steps. 

Adam took a deep breath and climbed out of the car, walking carefully, moving steadily up behind Ronan until he was standing next to him. Adam turned so his back was to the house, giving Ronan room to escape if he needed it. 

“Why?” Ronan asked after a minute.

“Why wouldn’t I care? Or why wouldn’t I call him?” Adam stared resolutely out at the yard as he felt Ronan turn to look at him.

“Why would you stay after all that shit?” 

That surprised Adam enough that his head whipped around to look right back at Ronan. Dusk was falling steadily around them both, wrapping them in dusty light that seemed to make everything fuzzy around the edges. 

“Ronan,” Adam said, soft. He watched Ronan’s eyes dart across his face. “What he said - it doesn’t matter.” He felt his ears and cheeks burn.

Ronan scoffed, but there was no heat in it. His eyes were still fixed on Adam’s. “I don’t lie. I’m not going to tell you he was, because-” His breath stuttered and he shut his eyes, dark eyelashes fanning over his cheeks.

Adam’s whole face felt like a mid-August sunburn. “I don’t mind,” he whispered. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, a nervous habit. Ronan’s eyes snapped open and narrowed on his mouth like a hawk sighting a field mouse.

“That’s the worst there is,” Ronan said. “I’m not proud of a lot of shit, and that least of all.”

Adam shook his head, gaze never leaving Ronan’s face. “We’re all not proud of a lot of things. That asshole doesn’t get to dictate your value.”

Ronan laughed softly, dumbstruck. “You sound like the maggot.”

One side of Adam’s mouth quirked in a quick grin. Ronan’s eyes tracked it hungrily.

Adam took a deep breath and leaned, just a fraction, into Ronan’s space. “Ronan,” he said again, just a breath.

Ronan’s eyelids flickered once, just a moment of indecision before he took a deep breath and brought one hand up to cup the back of Adam’s neck. “Tell me if I’m getting it wrong, Parrish,” he said and then they were kissing, a dry press of lips that sent a thrill down Adam’s spine.

Adam had spent his entire life wanting. Wanting to be left alone, wanting to be noticed - it always felt like something was just outside of his reach. It was never something he could have, made just for _wanting_.

Having, Adam realized, had all the same desire as wanting, but the satisfaction was so much more.

He felt Ronan’s tongue press against the seam of his lips and he groaned softly at the back of his throat. One of his hands came up to clutch at Ronan’s forearm, fingers pressing against the soft skin there, while the other gripped at Ronan’s hip, turning him as Adam turned so they were pressed together. Adam opened for him, as sweetly as he could, not wanting to scare Ronan away now that they’d come this far after weeks of dancing just outside the line.

Ronan’s other hand came up to clasp the other side of Adam’s neck, fingers lacing together behind his head to brace Adam as they kissed deeper. It was more than Adam had ever been kissed before, deep, wet presses that seemed to stretch on for minutes at a time. He felt Ronan’s teeth graze against his top lip and he responded by dipping his tongue against the corner of Ronan’s mouth. Ronan whimpered, high and fast in the back of his throat, and Adam pulled back to look at him.

In the porch light, Ronan’s pupils were blown so that all Adam could see was a thin ring of pale blue. 

“You didn’t get it wrong,” Adam said breathlessly. “But I don’t put out on the first date.”

Ronan blinked, surprised, before his lips curled in satisfaction. “Gimme some credit, Parrish,” he said. “I can do better than that for a first date.”

Reluctantly, Adam pulled out of Ronan’s embrace, stepping up onto the first porch step. “Prove it,” he said with a grin before turning and leaving Ronan standing, stunned, in the yard.


	4. Chapter 4

Adam didn’t see Ronan for the rest of the day. He wasn’t avoiding Ronan, per se, just taking some time to breathe. There were a lot of pieces to this puzzle and as Adam pressed his fingertips to his lips, remembering how Ronan’s mouth felt on his, he thought about what came next. He thought about what he wanted, which was uncomplicated, and what was probably best for all parties involved, which was messily complicated and not particularly fun to think about. So, Adam did what he did best and threw himself into his work, reading pages and pages about Welsh lore until his eyes ached.

It wasn’t until Adam looked up and saw that the sun had set that he realized he hadn’t eaten since the market. His stomach felt hollow as he carefully made his way downstairs to the kitchen.

Ronan must have been off on the property, finishing chores. The kitchen was silent, still neat and clean from the night before. Adam lingered in the doorway for a moment; he was hungry but nothing sounded good. He looked around, feeling foolish, and was about to stir himself into action when he heard the thump of the screen door and footsteps in the hall. He leaned against the doorframe, watching carefully as Ronan appeared, kicking off his boots in the mudroom off the hallway before he caught sight of Adam and froze.

They stood there a moment in the twilight, watching each other.

“Parrish,” Ronan said cautiously. His hands hung by his sides, fingers twitching a bit.

Adam’s pulse jumped in his throat. “I was- I came down to-” A weak laugh fluttered over his tongue. “I can’t remember.”

Ronan took a step towards him. His eyes were intensely blue, shining out of his face, twin candles in a dark window. He stood broadly across from Adam, barely an arm’s length away. Adam turned towards him, his body somehow tuned to Ronan’s movement. He felt his hips shift impatiently, a tiny, jerking motion that got Ronan’s attention. Those eyes fell for just a moment, tracing hot over Adam’s body before they came back up to meet his. Ronan’s brow furrowed, looking lost. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip.

“We’re waiting, yeah?”

“What?” Adam asked breathlessly.

The furrow got deeper. “The first date thing? You want to wait.”

Adam wondered if it was possible to spontaneously combust of embarrassment. He was never going to try to flirt again. “Oh, Jesus, Ronan, no.” He gripped the hem of his t-shirt, momentarily lost. “I was-I wanted-I was joking. It was a joke.”

The worry and care smoothed out of Ronan’s face in an instant, replaced by the hungry stare Adam had been seeing more often. “Oh, thank fuck.” He stepped forward quickly, his hands coming up to cup Adam’s face, as he tipped the latter’s face up and kissed him soundly.

Adam had never been kissed like this, their first kiss in the yard notwithstanding. He felt breathlessly powerful; all the breath had been stolen out of his lungs but he was given everything he needed back in the way Ronan made tiny, satisfied noises every time their mouths met. Adam couldn’t think and for the first time in his life, he didn’t mind. All he could think about was the feeling of the shorn hair at Ronan’s nape as Adam clutched at his neck and the way Adam’s back arched as he reached up for more kisses. Ronan felt, somehow, impossibly tall even though Adam logically knew there wasn’t more than five inches difference between them.

“What do you want?” Ronan mumbled against Adam’s right cheek, chasing after his words with the point of his nose and a tender kiss right below Adam’s ear.

Adam considered all the possibilities and found that, while the body was willing, the spirit was weak. “I haven’t...I’ve never...”

“It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

They found themselves in Ronan’s bedroom. Adam had led Ronan up the stairs, pulling off shirts and dipping fingers into waistbands as they went. He had started to tug Ronan towards his bedroom but Ronan had stopped him with a hand around Adam’s hip, tugging Adam gently back into the room he’d heard Ronan disappear into night after night.

It wasn’t hard to imagine Ronan growing up in this bedroom, even as Adam measured with his eyes and found it to be roughly the same size as his childhood living room. A large bed sat in one corner, messily made with a navy comforter and pillows thrown haphazardly against the headboard. There was a desk under the window and anyone that sat in it would be able into the large crabapple tree that was planted outside the back door. There were books crammed into three low bookshelves, which came as a surprise, and Ronan huffed a laugh when he caught Adam’s eyes lingering on some of the titles.

“You can look at those later,” he murmured, turning Adam away from the bookshelves with an easy kiss to the side of his neck. They stood facing the bed, Adam’s back pressed against Ronan’s chest as Ronan blessed a layer of kisses over the side of Adam’s throat and up into his hair.

“This okay?” he asked and Adam nodded, knees weak. He let his eyes drift shut as he clung to Ronan’s arms, which had wrapped around his stomach and held him comfortably close.

Ronan held him like that for a minute, the two of them breathing in time before he slipped from behind Adam and sat on the bed, looking up at Adam as he went. His face was so open that it didn’t seem real for a moment. Adam had to catch his bearings as he stepped between Ronan’s knees, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth as his hands came up to Ronan’s shoulders. His thumbs trailed over the jut of Ronan’s collarbones even as his fingertips dug into the swell at the base of Ronan’s neck.

“Hey,” Ronan said softly, reaching up to thumb Adam’s lip free. Adam’s tongue chased it, briefly, tasting sweat-salt skin. Ronan’s eyes went dark and he strained up to kiss Adam again, pressing their mouths together feverishly.

Adam whimpered as he felt Ronan’s hands drift down the sides of his hips, skirting at the edge of his ass before cupping where his thigh creased as it met the rest of his body. Ronan applied gentle pressure, pulling him forward until Adam had to choose between flopping down onto Ronan or folding onto his knees as he slid into Ronan’s lap. One seemed decidedly sexier than the other and he let out a long, slow breath as he settled his knees on either side of Ronan’s hips.

Ronan grinned lazily in the dark, pleased, as he brought his wide hands up to span the width of Adam’s ribs, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into Adam’s skin, just shy of his nipples.

A thin frisson of want skittered under his skin, anywhere Ronan’s hands touched. Adam burned.

Ronan said something, his voice muffled against Adam’s throat. Adam shifted, leaning back slightly on Ronan’s knees to better hear. “What?”

“Can I touch you?” Ronan asked breathlessly.

“Yeah,” he gasped, hands moving restlessly over Ronan’s broad frame. “Yeah, Ronan, please.”

Ronan leaned up to kiss him again, his hands flexing for a moment around Adam’s sides, pushing all the breath out of Adam and into their mouths. Adam tentatively slipped his tongue along the seam of Ronan’s lips, licking the curve under his Cupid’s bow and Ronan groaned, opening wide to let Adam in. He explored the sharpness of Ronan’s teeth and the wet, welcoming heat of his mouth as one of Ronan’s hands trailed down his belly, fingers skating over the line of hair that led from his belly button to beneath his waistband. He teased at dipping lower for a moment before pressing one hand firmly where Adam was hard and desperate in his shorts.

Adam whimpered and Ronan pulled back, bright eyes traveling over Adam’s face before he dropped his gaze into the space between their bodies, releasing Adam’s side as he used both hands to undo Adam’s fly and reach into his underwear, one broad, rough hand deftly grasping Adam’s cock. The shock of Ronan’s touch sent Adam’s heart into overdrive and he bitterly regretted the awkward angle of Ronan’s wrist.

“Wait, hang on,” Adam said, scrambling. Ronan froze, quickly removing his hand, but Adam just kissed him swiftly and stood to shuck off his shorts and underwear together before climbing back onto Ronan’s lap in a move that felt entirely too bold. The shock that passed over Ronan’s face quickly devolved into delight at his lapful of naked boy and he wrapped his arms around Adam’s waist. Adam laughed into their kiss, eyes open as he watched Ronan watching him. He had never been drunk but he imagined this was what that moment between sober and tipsy felt like - powerful and full of possibility like there was nothing he could do wrong. He nudged at Ronan’s cheekbone with his nose to slip his teeth around Ronan’s earlobe and grinned when Ronan’s entire body went tense all over.

“Not fucking fair,” Ronan growled, voice shaky. His hands trailed hot over Adam’s back, up his spine and down towards the curve of his hips. One pass drifted low enough that he was stroking over Adam’s ass and Adam whined as his hips thrust almost involuntarily.

“I want to,” Ronan murmured, lapping at Adam’s collarbone, “but not tonight.” He leaned back slightly, putting a little space between them as his hand resumed its grip around Adam, squeezing as his thumb swirled over the head, collecting precome and smearing it over the crown.

“Oh,” Adam breathed, clutching Ronan’s shoulders.

“Yeah?” Ronan grinned, pressing his forehead to Adam’s as together they watched the head of Adam’s cock disappear and reappear between Ronan’s fingers.

Adam felt dangerously close watching Ronan and he rocked his hips in time with each stroke, chest heaving as he struggled for breath. He clenched his teeth and hissed when Ronan released him, running his fingers up the hot length of him before each fingertip dipped into his slit, gathering the wetness there and slip-sliding over the head.

They stayed like that forever, Ronan not even stroking him, not properly. He just kept running his fingers over the head of Adam’s cock, over and over until Adam was wet and impossibly hard and shivering in Ronan’s arms.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Ronan breathed against Adam’s throat. “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

Adam gasped. Air hurt. “Ronan. Ronan, please.”

“Do it, Adam. Come on.”

It hit Adam all at once, a lightning strike of pleasure that rocketed up his spine and spread through his body with a white-hot jolt. He was aware of Ronan’s lips against his throat, licking at his pulse as Adam fought for breath. Streams of come splattered against Ronan’s chest, almost reaching the delicate silver cross that hung against his breastbone. Adam’s thighs shook from the effort of holding himself over Ronan and he was grateful when Ronan guided his hips so that he rolled off and landed on his back across the bedspread. He felt deliciously light and he reached for Ronan as the latter flopped down next to him, hands grasping greedily at Ronan’s jeans.

“Adam,” Ronan said softly, slipping the fingers of his clean hand between Adam’s. “It’s okay.”

Insecurity took over. “Oh.” Adam pulled his hand free, suddenly feeling very, _very_ naked. “Okay. Sorry.”

“No!” Ronan said loudly, snatching Adam’s hand back and pressing it to his stomach. Adam went a little dizzy with the feeling of Ronan’s abs rippling under his touch. “I, um-” Ronan cleared his throat awkwardly. “I already- you’re really fucking hot, you know?”

Adam let out a disbelieving snort and turned his face up to the ceiling, away from Ronan’s gaze. He chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

Ronan barked a laugh. “Rude,” he said, bringing Adam’s hand up to kiss the palm before he stood and ducked out of the room. Adam heard the trickle of water running in the bathroom as Ronan, presumably, washed his hands and it occurred to Adam that maybe Ronan was giving him a chance to head back to his own room before Ronan finished.

He hadn’t had a hookup since early in his first year of college when he’d tried it once with a girl in his English comp class and once with a boy in his biology lab. Both had been the bare minimum, never venturing past the waist, and he’d been out neatly before eleven o’clock each time. He’d gone with one of each, just to see if his suspicions were true; once confirmed, he’d put that knowledge aside in favor of earning his degree and letting Gansey and Blue eat up all of his minimal free time.

Adam had never considered the possibility of spending the night with someone. Maybe Ronan didn’t like sharing a bed; maybe Ronan just didn’t want to share a bed with Adam.

The horror of being seen as presumptuous spurred Adam into action and he slid off the bed to grab his boxer briefs out of his shorts and slip them back on. He was adjusting the waistband around his hips when he heard a gentle knock on the doorframe and turned to see Ronan, still in his jeans, holding onto the lintel. It did wonderful things to his biceps and Adam felt his cheeks go hot as his eyes traced over the curve of Ronan’s shoulders, decorated with the sharp points of his tattoo, down to the broadness of his chest and the cut of his hips.

They regarded each other silently for a moment before Ronan sighed deeply through his nose and stepped into the room, hands going to his fly. He didn’t break eye contact as he unfastened the button and lowered the zipper, pushing the jeans down his hips and kicking them into a dark corner.

Gulping, Adam let his eyes drift appreciatively over the long sweep of Ronan’s body. His fingers twitched with the desire to touch but he didn’t dare, not now, not when he wasn’t sure where they stood.

With a slow, sly smile, Ronan stepped past Adam, brushing his fingers against the inside of Adam’s wrist as he leaned in close to Adam’s good ear.

“Come to bed,” he said. It didn’t have any weight of a command; it was the request of a lover.

Adam let himself be pulled down into the luxurious expanse of that wide bed. He kept himself carefully to one side and Ronan chuckled a little, shaking his head as he maneuvered them so that his head was pillowed in the crook of Adam’s shoulder. He was so warm, almost too warm, but Adam felt himself getting drowsy. He was asleep within minutes.

<<>>

Faint sunlight turned the back of Adam’s eyelids red. He came awake slowly, stretching luxuriously before he remembered what they’d done and his eyes flew open. He was still in Ronan’s bed, curled onto his side around a pillow, and he was alone. He sat up, heart climbing into his throat, until it hit him that it was Sunday and Ronan was probably at church. He pulled back the covers, ready to disappear back to his room in favor of clean clothes, but a flash of color on the desk caught his attention.

Adam had been surprised by the sunflowers in the backyard at first, but one look at Ronan’s face when he’d watered them had told him that Ronan hadn’t planted them, though they were now his to tend. Adam hadn’t mentioned them beyond offering to help water and Ronan let him.

Now, a single, sunny bloom sat overflowing in a coffee cup. It was carefully placed so that it would catch Adam’s eye when he woke and Adam reached over to carefully trail his fingers over bright yellow petals as his heart tripped over itself.

It was a fair morning and Adam craved coffee, but some deeper satisfaction let him settle back into the pillows, sighing deeply as he drifted back to sleep.

The next time he woke, it was to the sound of footsteps in the hall. He rolled over just in time to see Ronan step through the door in his suit and tie, looking exactly as sinful as the first time Adam had seen him in the same getup but now Adam let himself look instead of dropping his eyes.

Ronan gave him the same self-satisfied smirk, but there was something softer around his eyes that made Adam sit up, tipping up his face as Ronan met him halfway and gently kissed him.

“You’re still in bed,” Ronan softly said against Adam’s lips and Adam felt a thrill of guilt pierce through the pleasure of being kissed.

“Sorry,” he started, but Ronan crawled over him - suit, tie, and shoes - to kiss him again, deeper and more thoroughly than he had been.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Ronan said gruffly and Adam laughed, slipping his hands under Ronan’s jacket to rove over the broad expanse of those shoulders. His fingertips slipped against the fine material of Ronan’s shirt and Adam suddenly, desperately wanted to be fucked while Ronan wore his church suit. He wasn’t sure how to ask for it, though, so he just kissed Ronan back and let his hands explore.

Ronan pulled at the covers that separated them, drawing in a quick breath when he realized Adam was still just wearing his underwear. His right hand fit along Adam’s ribs, a sense memory pulled out of the night before that made Adam’s back arch as he wrapped his arms around Ronan’s neck. Ronan’s rough thumb sweeping against his nipple lit Adam on fire and he groaned.

“Ronan.” Adam pressed his face against the other man’s throat. “Ronan, will you fuck me?”

Ronan’s breath hissed between his teeth and he reared up on his knees, shucking off his jacket before Adam could stop him. He managed to reach forward and get one hand around Ronan’s wrist before he started in on the buttons on his shirt and Adam forced himself to look Ronan in the eye as he said,

“Leave these on.”

Ronan looked like he’d been struck by lightning; Adam knew how he felt. Everything was electric and warm, sparking easily between them even as Ronan kicked off his shoes and socks but obligingly left the rest of his clothes on. Adam was surprised when Ronan reached over the side of the bed and came back with lube but he didn’t have any time to ask before Ronan was making quick work of Adam’s boxers until it was just Adam, bare, legs spread, and Ronan pressing one slick, broad finger into him.

Adam had done this himself a few times, back when he’d been figuring out where he stood with his bisexuality but nothing could have prepared him for watching Ronan’s face as Ronan stared hungrily down at where his finger disappeared into Adam’s body. It was slow going as Adam breathed through the stretch but Ronan helped with tender kisses on the inside of his knees and a thumb pressed just underneath Adam’s balls that seemed to be a conduit to every pleasurable nerve ending in Adam’s body. He threw his head back, just feeling, as Ronan added a second finger and pressed his teeth to Adam’s hipbone.

“Jesus, you’re so good,” Ronan breathed. “Next time, I’m going to put my tongue right here and work you open, nice and slow.”

Adam twisted his fingers into the sheets, grit his teeth, and focused on not coming.

After a few minutes of slick noises and whispered praise, Ronan pulled his fingers free and reached over to grab the pillow he’d used the night before. He stroked Adam’s flank and asked, “Can you lift your hips for me?” before slipping the pillow under Adam when the latter did as he was asked.

Adam watched, breathless, as Ronan reached back over the bed and retrieved a condom. He fumbled with it for a moment, lube making it hilariously impossible to get any sort of a grip, before Adam took it from him, grinning.

“Let me?” he asked quietly and Ronan nodded, watching intently as Adam abandoned the condom on his stomach to reach forward and maneuver Ronan out of his dress pants. At the first brush of his fingers against Ronan’s cock, Ronan made a sound like he was dying and fell forward over Adam so that he could press his lips against Adam’s cheekbone.

He was rigidly hard and blood-hot. The head was flushed a deep red and peeked through the foreskin as Adam curled his fingers into a fist just to feel the weight of Ronan’s cock in his palm.

Ronan’s hips stuttered as he swore and Adam grinned before he could help himself. He quickly opened the condom and rolled it on, delighted when Ronan gasped wetly against Adam’s neck.

“Proud of yourself?” he asked.

Adam didn’t answer, reaching down instead to feel himself, wet and open and ready.

“I know, I know,” Ronan groused without any real irritability, catching the movement of Adam’s hand as he slicked himself up, fingers tangling with Adam’s as he spread more lube and took himself in hand as he pressed steadily, slowly until the head of his cock was pressed inside the warm clutch of Adam’s body.

“Oh, fuck,” Ronan groaned; Adam agreed wholeheartedly. The stretch was exquisite, a stinging not-quite pain that lessened slightly when Adam let out a long, shaky breath.

“Keep going,” he urged, vowels slipping out all syrupy and slow. He could feel every inch as Ronan pressed down until there was no telling where Adam ended and Ronan began; all Adam could feel was the whole length of Ronan’s cock and the frantic pounding of his heart high in his throat.

Ronan watched him steadily even as sweat dripped down his neck and stained the pristine white collar of his shirt. Adam allowed himself the smallest self-indulgence and grasped Ronan’s tie, wrapping it around his hand and tugging lightly. He was rewarded with a huffed laugh and a bite to his bottom lip, just hard enough to sting. It surprised Adam enough that he jolted, which caused him to tighten around Ronan and they both moaned with the feel of it.

“How we feeling?” Ronan whispered against Adam’s neck. Adam tentatively shifted his hips so that Ronan slid out of him an inch or two before he shifted again and was back to being full. The pain was still there but it shared space with a pleasure that simmered just under Adam’s skin.

“Go slow,” Adam said and Ronan grunted, pulling his hips away before thrusting in one steady slide. “Yeah,” Adam breathed, scratching his fingernails over the back of Ronan’s skull. “Yeah, like that.”

They kept a steady rhythm, Ronan never pushing Adam any further than he was comfortable until the need to come came rushing up from the tips of Adam’s toes and he gasped, “Faster, Ronan, _please_.”

Ronan leaned back, shifting his knees and pulling Adam into his lap, hands wrapped around Adam’s thighs as he gave Adam the fucking they both deserved. It was so much and not enough, so Adam wrapped one hand around himself, stroking in time with Ronan’s thrusts, until he spilled with a whine, come landing wetly on his stomach.

Adam blinked muzzily, feeling dazed, and barely registered when Ronan curled in on himself and pressed in once, twice, before going completely taut and still over Adam.

Their chests rose and fell in tandem as they both struggled for breath and it felt like a lifetime before Ronan’s shoulders relaxed and he carefully pulled free, pressing a kiss to the inside of Adam’s knee as he went. He rolled off the bed and Adam followed him as he peeled off the condom, dropping it into a wastebasket by bookshelves that had distracted Adam the night before.

Ronan quickly stripped out of his tie, shirt, and slacks until all that was left were his dark boxer-briefs, slung low on his hips, the silver chain around his neck, and the wicked tattoo that stretched across his back, taking possession of his skin and reaching viciously over his shoulders and hips. There wasn’t an inch of skin uncovered by black ink; Adam had seen the fringes peeking over Ronan’s collars and under the hems of his shirts, but he hadn’t realized its full extent. It was darkly beautiful and he couldn’t stop looking at each new image that made itself known.

Adam sat up, pulling the sheet over his lap, and said, “That looks like it was painful.”

Ronan glanced over his shoulder, brow furrowed. He followed the path of Adam’s eyes and smirked.

“It hurt like a motherfucker,” Ronan admitted as he kicked his clothes into a corner and came to sit next to Adam on the bed. Adam reached out to trace the Celtic knot that twisted in the middle of Ronan’s shoulder blades. Ronan let out a shuddery sigh. “I started it when I was sixteen,” he said quietly. “It took three years to complete.”

“Jesus,” Adam breathed.

Ronan turned towards him, dislodging his hand, and pressed the pad of his thumb against a small, round scar high on the inside of Adam’s arm, close to his elbow. “Could have been worse,” he observed coldly.

Adam inhaled deeply through his nose and slowly pulled away, tucking his arm close into his body. “Are we talking about this?” he asked, gesturing hesitantly to the space between them.

Ronan blinked at the non-sequitur but he looked at Adam in a clear, even way that seemed like it had been wiped of all emotion. He was preparing for a meltdown, Adam realized - he was getting ready for Adam to bolt, to pretend like this had been a mistake, and that all that was left was an awkward end to the summer. It felt like Ronan was leaving it all in his hands and rather than make him antsy and anxious, it gave Adam an incredible sense of calm. He was free to choose, free to make a decision that was maybe a little selfish but Adam had already decided that Ronan was worth a little selfishness.

“Okay,” Adam said gently. “Okay.” He put one hand to Ronan’s cheek, fingers curled around Ronan’s ear. Ronan’s hand came up to close around his wrist and they both let out long, steady breaths that neither knew the other had been holding.

<<>>

It was easy, after that.

Adam still worked hard because hard work was as deeply ingrained into his DNA as his eye color or his flat feet. They still went through the routine they’d established in the month and a half since he’d arrived but now instead of long silences and lingering looks, he got to press Ronan against the porch railing in the morning to kiss him gratefully after being handed a hot cup of coffee. The days evolved: it was Ronan teaching him to drive stick in the old farm truck that Adam thought had permanently broken down and more euphemisms than either of them could laugh at; it was Adam being brave and climbing into Ronan’s lap after dinner, blowing him on the living room couch to Ronan’s amazement and delight. A tiny voice in the back of Adam’s head argued that he was still being paid, that this was the most unprofessional he’d ever been in his entire life but he was so delighted by the way Ronan smiled every time he made Adam laugh that it wasn’t much to worry about. Or so he thought.

<<>>

“I feel a little like a hooker.”

They were laying on an old blanket in the back pasture, curled into each other as they watched the setting sun light up the treeline. Animals had been fed, barns locked for the night, and Ronan pressed his face into his bicep, laughing. Adam had to smile, too.

“I don’t think anyone would mistake you for a hooker,” Ronan said finally, brushing a stray piece of hair out of Adam’s eyes.

“Well,” Adam said dryly, “we have sex and you pay me.”

“Correlation doesn't equal causation, Parrish. Don’t pretend to be stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid, pretend or otherwise.” Adam pulled a blade of grass and began shredding it between his fingers. Contradictory to his words, he felt stupid as his throat burned anxiously.

“Okay, well, how can I make you feel better about it?” Ronan rolled over and pressed his face into the soft skin that peeked out between Adam’s jeans and t-shirt.

Adam briefly forgot what they were talking about. He remembered when he felt Ronan’s fingers tracing up his thigh and he sat up, dislodging Ronan, who made an unhappy noise.

“Um. Well, I guess, we could limit sex to non-working hours?”

Ronan looked up at him, pressing his lips together as though he was trying not to laugh. “In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t exactly keep a solid nine-to-five schedule.”

“Ugh, I know.” Adam covered his eyes. “Forget I said anything.”

Ronan was quiet. When Adam finally dared to peek at him, Ronan was staring at a spot over Adam’s head. “I will stop initiating things in the barn,” he finally said. “If that helps.”

“It doesn’t because I like it when you jump me in the barn,” Adam grumbled. Ronan laughed again and hoisted himself up to deeply and thoroughly kiss Adam.

“Guess you’re my kept boy, then,” he said softly, but there was no seriousness to it. The part of Adam’s brain that wanted to object was quickly overruled by the tender way Ronan kissed his way down Adam’s throat and over his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](pastelle-pvnk.tumblr.com)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [That Summer [art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25212556) by [rozurashii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rozurashii/pseuds/rozurashii)




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